Is it in the accuracy of sensibility
that patterns come to the sense...

I am in awe of the translation of your eyes
from forgotten languages of dreams...

Whiteness in my heart
I roll from the snow fall to...

Dark hair
white teeth...

I once saw a blackbird
carry me to the white firmament...

Denzel Washington smiles.
Now the white is more radiant...

Am I a gem wrapped in cotton balls,
or a worm, inside the flesh of an apple...

It makes no sense:
Who does play the music...

Windchill is howling in my veins,
as on the windows of these trains...

We are all shackled
within anywhere other...

Just losers brag and flag
their wining...

There are the freeze bees
Teasing me to sneeze...